Revelations
by amorito
Summary: Alexandra Miller hasn't got any idea what she is committing to when she meets Adrian Veidt.
1. Chapter 1

_A c__old, white penthouse isn't the best place to find warmth when there's fog so thick outside that it reaches all the highest roof tops. Wearing my wool socks and a big t-shirt I sneaked into the kitchen where the white coldness changed into black, shiny marble and brushed metal. The paper and pen with the initials "A.V." on them seemed to have a blaming glow when I tried to decide what to write. I stared at the frosted window and the silhouette of New York and thought through the whole story that led up to this minute._

Christmas parties in the year 1973 were just as stylish as you could expect from the rich children of rich parents – so sophisticated and elegant that even those who were used to that kind of lifestyle felt almost uncomfortable. I came, partially forced by my friends, and now I was bored and mildly depressed. I was single for the first time in two years and even though that wasn't the case, I felt that the apartment was full of couples. With their champagne glasses and pearl necklaces two friends of mine came to sit on my both sides and giggled enthusiastically. They whispered eagerly that Adrian Veidt was coming; surely he would come before dinner. He was sophisticated, handsome, intelligent and reputedly "so my type". I took this enthusiasm with reservation and cynicism but decided to stay for a while.

Adrian arrived a little before we sat ourselves at the table. There was no denial that he was handsome, but there was something cold in his straight nose, the cool blue of his eyes and high cheekbones. He was sitting near the end of the table; I was on the other side in the middle section. From there I saw better his profile, and distractingly often I surprised myself by perusing it. A few times he looked at me and I looked away only after a few seconds. The conversation buzzed all around, until one certain son of a businessman, Charles Griffin, called me from three seats away.

"Hey Miller, how's your boyfriend doing?" Most of the guests continued their speaking, but some fell silent and kept their eyes on their plates and ears towards our little conversation. There was nothing like a good old humiliation.

"I can't say. I haven't seen him lately," I answered politely, but firmly.

"Really? I'm pretty sure that he came from your apartment yesterday with some boxes," he continued, face all reddish after drinking too much.

"Well, maybe. I was at work. You see, some of us do something for a living," I said a smile on my face. This caused some devilish grins and end of this conversation. I gazed at Adrian, who had just picked up his glass; he smiled a little and clearly raised the glass for me before drinking.

After the dinner we continued the party in the living room. All cream-colored decorations was the reason why no one wore white. I stood with a glass of soda and watched the flirting, talking, gossiping and laughing. I wasn't feeling very social; maybe the conflict with Charles had had its consequences after all.

Speak of the devil, Charles appeared. He wasn't that drunk, but his eyes were slightly off-focus and gleaming.

"So, all alone again?" he breathed. I smelled liquor and cigars. "Can't say I'm surprised…"

"Please Charles, walk away," I asked. I wasn't irritated but I was tired and did feel unsafe.

"Oh come on, I just want to know what your secret is, why you always end up alone…"

"Is there a problem?" asked someone. Adrian had come behind Charles, probably so quietly that not even I noticed.

"Listen pal…" Charles began, but when he turned and faced Adrian's chest, he shut up and looked at his face. I hadn't realized how tall he was - definitely over 6 feet! For a while the two just looked at each other. I couldn't see Charles's face, but Adrian was cool and calm. He didn't show any signs of threat, but somehow he radiated such strength and power that Charles finally walked away without a word.

"Right on time," I said to my saviour as if this had been planned.

"Who is he anyway?" Adrian asked, looking at Charles's back contemptuously.

"A son of a bank manager who is my father's colleague. He has probably been interested in me for a while but I don't share his emotions," I said. Immediately I was embarrassed – why had I said so much? But Adrian didn't seem to mind. He turned his face to me and just looked at me. My four-inch heels lifted my eyes near his chin; I would feel awfully small beside him barefooted.

"Adrian Veidt," he introduced himself, eyes still attached to mine, his hand in front of me.

"Alexandra Miller," I said. Some of these fake-noblemen would kiss my hand at this point even though it was against the etiquette. Adrian didn't do that nor kiss the air above my hand. He just kept his hand in mine, feeling the skin with this thumb. All this time our eyes were attached to each other.

Our conversation was light and polite, but not forced in any way. He asked most of the questions and answered my few questions shortly. I smiled widely, as it was natural for me, but Adrian's smile only twitched on his face occasionally. It didn't quite catch his eyes probably causing the overall coldness in his expressions. But still, he was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen.

Adrian left the party just before midnight, shook my hand shortly and showed me a flash of his smile. Shortly after that I left too – I had no one to talk to, except my friends who eagerly wanted to know everything about our conversation. Unwilling to give any information of it – I was surprised myself, because there was nothing private in our sentences – I avoided further questionings and walked the frosted streets home.

My parents had a late Christmas lunch in January 1974, since they had been in Europe over the holidays. I was on my way home when the concierge stopped me and handed me a hand-written card.

_I feel that we didn't have enough time last time. I want to know a little more. A car is waiting at 8 pm._

_A.V._

I was astonished. I had thought I would never hear from Adrian again. Thanking the concierge, I walked to the elevators like a sleepwalker. During the journey upstairs I almost had time to drive myself crazy thinking of my hairdo, dress, jewellery, shoes and what I had already eaten that day. In the end I tried to shake away all those irrational and panicky thoughts. My wardrobe included a perfect dress for any situation, heels could be sky-high and I still wouldn't be taller than Adrian and a quick check from the elevator mirror told me that I looked just fine. I now knew that Adrian hadn't forgotten me and that I had made quite an impression on him. He was supposedly a perfectionist, but if I had passed his demands a month ago feeling cynical and derisive, I would definitely look better when confident and social. All that cleared my head so that when I was at my door, my heart raced with nothing but anticipation for the evening.

At eight, the elevator doors opened and I stepped to the hall. With a cream-colored light siffon dress, golden stilettos and some golden accessories topped with a bouffant but soft curls I hoped I would make the best impression. It was a silly thought because I had prepared myself for hours and knew that I looked glamorous but still fresh. A chauffeur rose from a leather chair and took his hat off.

"Mr Veidt is in the car," he announced to me, preceding to the doors. A limousine sat in front of the doors, silent and stylish. The chauffeur opened the back door and I slid in.

Adrian put down the handset of his phone and said softly, "Good evening, Alexandra."

"Good evening, Adrian. And please, call me Alex," I replied instinctively more quietly than usually.


	2. Chapter 2

_I shook my head a little; I had sunk on my thoughts for too long. I was pretty sure that Adrian would not wake up for a while but I still wanted to be long gone before that. But what could I write? T__here was no easy way to summarize so much in such a little space._

Adrian took me to so many places – restaurants, operas, art galleries. He didn't like ballet, which was disappointing since I had danced for fifteen years. I still practiced once a week, just because I couldn't picture my life without dancing. He didn't say anything when I told him, but his little pout made feel a little ashamed. I still continued, always thinking Adrian while stretching my legs and doing pirouettes.

I introduced him to my family in summer 1974. He looked sharp, well-educated and wealthy in his light summer suit and pink tie – I thought it was sweet since I was wearing a dress of the same color. My father was almost as tall as Adrian, only few grey parts in his dark hair, moustache thick and well-trimmed. He seemed to like Adrian and asked right away where he had been educated. I froze to my spot; I realized that even I didn't know that. Adrian didn't get embarrassed; he simply said that he wasn't actually that well educated but had inherited his parents' wealth when he was very young and that he had travelled for some years. Dad was slightly surprised, but continued asking. He wasn't in the habit of making conclusions from such small details.

Obviously it was quite odd that I knew Adrian so little after six months of exclusive dating. I was still blind to his faults; there seemed to be only understandable reasons for his abstinence. He had become an orphan when he was 17; he was so shy or reserved that he was afraid to let anyone too close; he was an immigrant who still didn't trust natives. There were times when I suspected that he was hiding something else too, but those thoughts were quickly buried under shame and disbelief.

Soon I had learned that Adrian's revelations of his background were rare charismas which were little tests to me. If I absorbed them with awe and understanding with a little hint of pity he rewarded me later with something, maybe another secret, maybe a good of some sort. When he started his sentence or ended the story saying 'You know, I've never told anyone this' it melted my heart and made me want to take his head and press it against my chest and never let him leave.

Strange was, that those revelations that seemed so revolutionary or unprecedented looked later quite plain and ordinary things. He might tell that had been afraid of the dark still when he was 18 years old; he had learned to read when he was only 3 years old and how his parents had told everyone they knew that their son was a genius. I loved the idea that he told these stories only to me, especially in the point where we had dated for only weeks or months. It was so calming to lay or sit beside him, look at his noble profile and listen to his soft voice talking to me about himself. This alone was lovely, but the most perfect part was the awkwardness in him. It was something that he never showed to anyone else, something that no one else could hear from his voice. It was only reserved for my eyes and ears and it made me fall for him. At that point it was only sweet that he told these little details of himself.

During winter holidays of 1974, I was reading a book I had gotten for Christmas. I reached for the glass of wine and from the corner of my eye realized that Adrian was standing in the doorway. He had basically moved to my apartment even though his home was just as good – a little smaller and on a more distant street. I hadn't asked and he hadn't either, it just had happened. I didn't show any signs of noticing, but after I had sipped wine and he still was just standing there and looking at me, I said, "You really should stop that." I often surprised him looking at me like that, all silent and serious. It wouldn't have been that disturbing, if his face hadn't been so blank. He just stared and when I noticed him, he didn't get embarrassed nor awoke from this lethargy.

"What would you say…" he started then, attentive.

"If…?" I continued, raising my eyes from the book. Adrian came slowly closer, as if he needed more time to consider his words. Finally he sat next to me on the couch.

"If I told you I was… part of the Watchmen?" I looked at him. This sentence sounded like a bad joke, but it couldn't be. I knew that Adrian wasn't a big joker. He was quite lively if needed, during parties and social events, but when we were alone he was usually all serious and quiet. As usual, there were no signs of humor in his face. I wondered if there had been some signs of his alter ego before, and tons of examples came to my mind – to think of it, it was actually quite obvious.

"I guess," I said and took a deep breath, "that it makes sense." An expression of interest and something else came to Adrian's face and disappeared almost immediately, as if I had just imagined it.

"How's that?" he asked head tilted a little bit.

"I've always had the image that you are possibly hiding something," I said bravely.

"Well, that is true," he admitted, nodding approvingly. His motions were controlled and small. "And what if I told you that I've decided to quit and reveal my true identity to the public?"

If I had had any doubts of scam or joke, it disappeared for good. Now I closed the book and put it away. I turned to Adrian completely.

"Why would you do that?" I asked.

He shrugged a little and said, "I feel that we are not needed anymore, not in the same way as before," he said. "And if we are, well… there are others to continue the work. I think my work can be continued in the form of marketing."

"Marketing? You are not serious," I said even though I knew that he was completely serious. "And besides, Ozymandias is unbelievably important part of Watchmen. You can't know the consequences of retiring." Adrian had never said who his alter ego was but neither of us took any notice on this.

"So you don't think it's a good idea?" Adrian asked coldly.

"I think it's your call," I answered. The carelessness of his reveal burned some part of my soul but on the outside I was just as cool as he was. After a moment of silence Adrian rose and left the room.

_I looked around in the cool kitchen, its empty worktops and stainless doors. All of this was bought and built because of Adrian__'s decision. It had brought great wealth to him and thus to me. Even though Adrian was very generous, likeable and groomed, I knew that below all that there actually was a pretty cold and emotionless man. The steel door handle I had been staring at became blurry and obscure. Why was it so damn hard to go?_


	3. Chapter 3

The door opened and closed softly. I was awake even though it was Tuesday night – well, 3 am Wednesday morning to be precise. I heard footsteps and clinking of hangers from the dressing room. His slow motions were so torturing that I almost got up and rushed to the dressing room. Almost.

When Adrian came to the bedroom, he was still silent and slow. I turned on my back, face to the ceiling.

"Where were you?" I whispered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, sounding concerned while sliding under the blanket.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, turning my face to him. Moonlight lit his face; he was pale and had probably been up since 6 am the prior morning, but was still unbelievably energetic and showed no signs of exhaustion.

"I didn't know," he said softly, caressing my cheek with his cool fingers. It was so spontaneous, so sudden, that I couldn't say anything more. Words still bubbled inside; I wanted to bring out why I was so concerned and angry.

"You didn't answer," I finally said, after recovering from Adrian's act of gentleness.

"I was at a launch party," he said. What a surprise.

"Why you didn't say anything? I could've come too," I replied. In my mind I wondered why I sounded so whiny and childish but at the next moment I remembered that I had every reason to sound just like that. Adrian smiled stiffly.

"You wouldn't have liked it. Besides, it's not even weekend."

"I'm still awake, and I don't work anymore," I reminded. I had quit my job since Adrian's income made it unnecessary. Adrian also thought that it would seem suspicious that the girlfriend of one the richest man in America would work.

"Listen," Adrian said, a little impatient now, changing his position. "I really am sorry for making you concerned. Is there any way I could make it up to you?" he asked and fiddled my nightgown.

Adrian really knew which triggers to pull. He was on top of me before I even knew it, taking my clothes off.

_I sighed and rubbed my eyes. How helpless I must seem! But I was terribly lonely and bored. I missed Adrian and his touch so much_ _that when I finally saw him I forgot all my planned hateful words and did whatever he wanted as long as I got be near him and to know he wasn't a dream. I didn't always stay home, but Adrian was right that I usually didn't enjoy myself at his work parties. In front of photographers and media we were clutched together, but inside the clubs or halls we slowly separated from each other._

One of the great changes in dating Adrian was that I suddenly realized to be left out from my friends' lives. At first they all were excited that I was seeing a man so rich and good-looking and wanted to meet him. I arranged parties so as they could meet him and 'approve' of him. But if my friend threw parties or wanted to see me, I always had something planned with Adrian. I was always sorry to say no, but I promised to make it up. But when I called back they almost always told me some polite excuse. I soon understood that they thought it was me who wanted to cut them out of my life. Basically the only one who stayed was Beth.

Beth and I had been talking for ages on the phone on one Saturday afternoon. Finally she stopped laughing and said still smiling, judging by her voice:

"Oh Alex, it's good to hear you laughing! I would never have thought that you'd be over it so quickly."

"Over it?" I repeated, also smiling but now a little confused.

"Well, you know… I never thought that Adrian would be like that so openly," Beth said, slightly uncomfortably.

My silence spoke for it self and Beth realized, "You… don't know." She spoke shakily, clearly horrified.

"Beth, _what_ don't I know?" I demanded, tears waiting behind my lids.

When Adrian stepped into the kitchen, he first noticed my red eyes and tense face. I was demonstratively quiet. He didn't say anything either. I had to begin even though it tore me apart.

"Good choice to go for the gentleman company," I said to his back. He froze still and didn't turn around.

"If you smelled like other women's perfume, I would've noticed, but this…" I continued, unable to finish.

Suddenly he turned around, his eyes squinted, lips pressed together. "Who told you… that?" he asked imminently.

"What difference does it make?" I threw back. He didn't say anything; obviously, he didn't need to.

_This had happened almost six months ago, August 1976. I had hoped for explanations, but they never came. We didn't speak to each other for days. Then he came with a diamond wristlet and whispered to me: "You know that I have never loved anyone else." That melted me, but now my cynicism had grown back and I thought about whom he had been referring to. Anyone else but me – or himself? I fiddled that particular wristlet on my left wrist and didn't feel a thing._

My parents threw their annual Christmas dinner every year on Boxing Day. In 1976 Adrian and I had been together for almost three years. My brother-in-law, my big sister Georgiana's husband Michael, graduated from Harvard, was a lawyer and a great dealer in stock market. However, he was awkwardly straightforward. After the dinner everybody was drinking champagne in the living room when he came to Adrian and me.

"Well, aren't you adorable," he said, grinning widely. "When can we gather to toast for your engagement?" My face turned an awkward shade of pink, but Adrian stayed calm, as always. I looked at him, waiting for his answer, as curious as Michael.

"You just have to wait and see," he said, smiling his franchise smile, wider than normal. I stayed silent while Michael looked from Adrian to me and then back again. I tried to look mysterious and knowing while my heart raced from surprise.

A few days after that Adrian was still in his workroom as I was ready to go to bed. He was going through piles of papers and occasionally writing something on them. I sneaked behind him and put my hands on his tense, strong shoulders. He turned his head, smiled at me and then turned back to his work.

"Was that true what you said to Michael?" I wanted to know, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. We hadn't discussed about the engagement since it first had been brought up.

"About what?" he asked absent-mindedly, writing something in margins.

"About the engagement," I said quietly. I felt almost shy asking. Adrian leaned back and I had to straighten up too. He still didn't say anything.

"Do you really want that?" he asked. A flash of last summer, Beth's phone call, news of Adrian and some man in a club, came to my mind. I shook it away.

"Well, it would be… nice," I said, trying not to sound too eager. "And wouldn't you like to have Adrian Junior here, too? Or Alexander?"

His head twitched a little. I couldn't see his face but I also couldn't move to see it; if I had done so, his expression would already be wiped away. "We'll see, Ally," he said and kissed my hand. I took it away.

"What did you just call me?" I asked. No one ever called me Ally. He turned to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Alex just reminds me of someone else I know," he answered and when I didn't say anything more, he continued to work.

For a while I stood there and stared at his neck. When my hands started shaking, I said "Good night," and left as fast as I could without running. I heard him say "Good night, honey," just as my tears overflowed.

_The fog was already vanishing and the frost melting from windows. Our apartment was the first to see the sunrise. The pale orange colored the metal in that cold, depressing kitchen. I took the pen once more and wrote:_

So as not to steal anything from you – time, money or emotions.

Lov Yours,

Alex

_I pulled the diamond wristlet away from my wrist and placed it on the paper. I sneaked into the dressing room, took off my t-shirt and socks and quickly pulled on the clothes I had chosen few hours ago. The rest were on my suitcases, but most of my favourite dresses, shoes and jewellery were left there on their shelves. Adrian had bought them to conciliate me; they filled most of my wardrobe nowadays. My hand hovered near the door handle to the bedroom but I pulled it back. If I now would look at Adrian, I just might change my mind. If he had asked, maybe I would have stayed and become a trophy wife instead of trophy girlfriend._


End file.
